The Dead World

[catbert836]

I look out on this world, and I see
Poisonous fruit dropping from dead trees
Particles of dirt swirling through the smoky miasma
Filthy fire flying from hazy mountains

People once lived here, I suppose
I know from the ruins:
Inky glyphs smeared on dull metal
Paper and plastic rubbish scattered through broken streets
Building skeletons, bleached by the red sun

And what happened to those who lived here?
Did some see their failures, just before the end?
Did some try to stop themselves when it was already too late?
Did they realize that they had killed their home
And themselves?

The black sky shimmers, yet
Offers me no answers.
I hear a whispering, from a long way off
The ghosts are speaking

What will they say?